Strong
by tsutsuji
Summary: After Yura's party, Break discovers new secrets and revelations in Liam's skin - some are things he should have known already, and some of them are about him. A post-retrace-56 sequel to "Marked." Break/Liam, naturally.


**Title: Strong**

Author: tsutsuji

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Pairing: Break x Liam (ooh now there's a surprise)

Rating: R, fairly mild, but with warnings for possibly squicky mentions of partially-healed injuries.

Word count: around 4600.

SPOILERS for stuff up through Retrace 56

Summary: After Isla Yura's ill-fated party, Break discovers new secrets and revelations in Liam's skin: some of them things he should have known already, and some of them about himself. A post-party sequel to "Marked."

AN: I put off writing any post-party fic as long as I could. Now I have three or four ideas banging around in my head. This is the most important one. ecause my post-party view of Liam seems to be a little different than some.

I'm wildly speculating about the nature and extent of Liam's injuries, guessing by what it looks like in the manga. Please excuse any medical inaccuracies. Like most post-party fics, this might get jossed all to hell, but oh well too bad. XD

* * *

Break didn't realize he'd nodded off until Liam's voice jolted him awake.

"You may as well lie down, Xerx," Liam said, so softly it was probably meant to _not_ startle him awake, or maybe he wasn't even meant to actually hear it. He did, though, and snapped his head up so fast his neck cracked, which was actually just as painful as it sounded.

He heard Liam's little _hmph_ and could easily imagine him rolling his eyes, even though all he could really see of him was a shape outlined by white sheets.

"It's what you get for falling asleep sitting up like that, Xerxes, you idiot. Trust you _not_ to lie around in bed all day the one time you're actually _supposed_ to be there."

"Who says I'm supposed to be?" Break responded automatically.

"Quite a number of people," Liam answered, just as quickly and just as testily.

It was true, but, Break realized, none of those people were present at the moment. By the sound and scent of it, he could tell that the room was empty except for the two of them. That warranted a small sigh of relief. No Gilbert or Sharon or Lady Shelly or Duchess Rainsworth hovering around in various states of distress, no Oz or Oscar trying to be disturbingly cheerful, no Pandora designated nurse or doctor monitoring Liam's fever or changing his bandages or trying to scold Break back to bed.

And no Rufus Barma, thank heavens. There were very few people Break wished less to see than Barma at the moment, and most of them were Baskervilles.

The last he knew, Oz and Oscar and at least three Pandora agents he didn't even recognize had been hovering around Liam's bedside, not to mention servants and a nurse or two darting in and out. The fact that they were gone now was a very good sign, if it meant they all thought Liam had recovered enough to be left alone and not fussed and worried over every minute of the day.

"They all went away and left you, with only a doddering old man to watch over you? How thoughtless!" he said.

"Oz herded everyone else out after you dozed off," Liam replied.

"Oz did?" Break said, amused.

"Yes, well, you said he was perceptive, didn't you. Come on, lie down, before you give yourself whiplash. If anyone comes in, I'll just tell them it was the only way to get you to follow doctor's orders and rest," Liam said.

Not that Break cared a whit what anyone else thought of anything he did, but he was a little surprised that Liam didn't. He chuckled.

"As long as that's not really what you're trying to make me do," he said.

"I probably should," Liam muttered.

His voice was nearly as strong and as exasperated as it ever was. There was just enough lamplight - and just enough of his vision left - for Break to tell that his face was turned in this direction but, of course, not quite enough to make out the expression on it.

It was also enough for what was left of his vision to see that there were no longer the large patches of white that had covered most of his upper body until recently. Most of the bandages had been removed; even the deepest gashes left on him by Bandersnatch had been cleanly stitched back together and were healing over well enough to be left uncovered. There was only a single band of lighter material across showing against the pale gray of his nightshirt, the sling that was meant to encourage his left shoulder to stay as still as possible. Judging from the strength of his voice, the troubling fever had finally been doused as well.

Break could imagine the little scowl that went with that tone of voice, but it would be so much better to actually see it. If he did lie down there, he could at least feel the shape of it under his fingertips... and, by touch, he could reassure himself that the doctors and everyone else were right, that Liam had overcome that slight but worrisome fever he'd had for the first few of days, and that all the cuts and injuries Break had heard described but never properly seen were healing as they should be, and that Liam truly had warmth and breath and a _heartbeat,_ so he would not have to rely on someone else's word of that...

"Xerxes," Liam said. His voice was softer. "That face again."

_What face?_ Break opened his mouth to say, but then he remembered. _I'm glad you're alive..._

He wasn't sure what his face and voice had revealed at that moment, but frankly, he didn't care if all he felt for Liam had been as plain as daylight.

"Come here, would you?"

Break saw movement on the bed and realized after a second what it was: Liam had raised his hand to beckon him over. He stood up and took the step to the bedside, and Liam's hand met his. Liam's _left_ hand.

The grip was still weak, but strong enough to pull Break's hand to his lips. The touch of warm skin and the puff of breath on his fingers startled him a little, not unpleasantly at all. He was even more

startled to feel Liam shudder a little, and then a whisper against his skin.

"_Please_ do lie down, Xerxes..."

He suddenly understood what Oz had been so perceptive about. Without another thought, he stepped to the opposite side of the bed, only letting Liam's hand slip out of his so that he could slip under the sheet and stretch out there, next to his relatively uninjured right side.

He curled alongside Liam and reached for him, carefully, ignoring any protests from his own body.

But Liam rolled gingerly onto his right side, slipped one hand under Break's head and around the back of his neck and started scrabbling at the front of his robe with the other, before he'd even settled fully on the bed.

"Ah, Liam, should you be...?" Break started to ask. Liam cut him off by sliding that hand inside his robe onto his chest and sidling closer, close enough that Break could feel the heat of his breath on his cheek.

"Yes," he said, even though his breath hitched in a little gasp of pain. "Damn it. I _should_."

Then his mouth was on Break's, as hungry as if he'd been starving for it, all this time since their last real kiss before that damned party. As if _he_ was the one who so desperately needed to know the other was really alive.

Break was hardly inclined to object. He just barely had the presence of mind not to fling his arm around Liam and pull him into a tight embrace, mindful of bruised ribs and stitches and gashes just starting to heal, and of that shoulder he probably shouldn't even be moving this much yet, though it was a huge relief to know that he could move it at all. He only gently tried to nudge Liam onto his back as he returned the kiss with an almost desperate sense of relief. Liam would have none of that, as stubborn as ever if not quite as strong.

It didn't last long, though, as it couldn't; they both ran out of breath far too quickly. Liam's mouth fell away from his with a gasp, then nuzzled against his throat with a little sigh of relief that sounded exactly the way Break felt.

"Better," Liam panted.

Break nodded, relishing the heat of Liam's breath on his shoulder, the warmth of that weak but determined left hand pressed against his chest. Liam wiggled closer, with a little catch of breath as his arm slipped free of the sling, and Break almost pushed him away until he realized what Liam was awkwardly trying to do. He shifted with him, instead, so that Liam's fingertips met the place on his skin that was marked with an illegal contractor's seal.

The touch didn't have quite the same searing heat that it had the first time Liam had touched him there on that day after Barma had exposed the seal to everyone, not even when Liam shifted so that his breath fell on the place as well. It was still such a welcome warmth, like the spark of life flowing between them, that Break panted sharply just the same. He heard Liam murmur something; it sounded like "you idiot" again, but he didn't care what it was, only that he had breath enough to say it.

Besides the heat of their kiss and this touch, the closeness was a welcome relief because it allowed him to get his own hands on Liam, _at last_. He ignored the twinge from that damn cut Fang had given him as he wriggled closer, tangled their legs together and slipped his hands inside the loosely fitting nightshirt.

He let his fingers slide across warm skin, and pressed his palm against Liam's chest to feel the steady heartbeat under bruised ribs. Gingerly, he felt his way along the familiar contours that he had first been allowed to explore on that day, months ago. It seemed like lifetimes ago, now. With almost no sight left, touching Liam had become even more important to him than it was back then, but now it felt like an absolute necessity.

He found, by memory, the familiar marks left by Barma's _tessen_ on Liam's skin, and remembered uncovering those little scars and bruises for the first time. He had thought there were no other secrets lying in wait between them after that, none of Liam's, anyway. Now he also found new lines drawn across Liam's ribs and torso, deeper and more extensive than the little marks from Barma's meaningless punishments. Even so, these wounds were only scratches, just a glancing blow of the Bandersnatch's deadly claw, so relatively minor that Break hadn't even heard them mentioned when Liam's other injuries had been discussed. They were already healing over, but still sensitive enough that Liam hissed when his fingers pass over them lightly, and breathed his name just as he'd done the first time Break had touched him like this.

He left the deeper gashes on his shoulder and hip alone.

Break had felt the need to claim those marks Barma had left on him, but he felt as if these new ones were his already, like that one old cut on Liam's forehead. His own fault. Liam had once again walked right into the path of violence, somewhere he never should have been, and Break had once again been too slow to push him out of harm's way in time.

He moved his hand away from those uncomfortable reminders and lifted it to touch Liam's face instead, palm against his cheek and thumb tracing the curve of his brow. His fingertips slipped into his hair above his temple and played over the now-faint scar from the blow Barma had landed on him that night.

His breath caught in surprise when he touched the ragged ridge of stitched skin just above the older scar. He hadn't even heard that Liam had taken yet another blow to the head.

Liam hissed softly. Break jerked his hand away, but Liam caught it and pulled it to his lips again.

"What is this, Xerx?" he asked. His voice sounded bitterly amused. "Are you afraid to touch me now?Or do you just think I'm that fragile?"

"No," Break breathed, even though that was almost exactly how he felt. "It's just that... no one mentioned that one."

Yet another thing he didn't know, wasn't able to see for himself and hadn't been told about. Another thing like March Hare's not entirely useless power, which could have made all the difference if he'd only known of it. In a way, he thought, Duke Barma was just as responsible for all these new injuries as he was for the small marks he'd made on Liam's skin by his own hand.

He supposed he should be glad that Barma had let Liam recuperate here at Rainsworth rather than moving him back to his own house so he'd been able to have all those visitors for the past several days, not to mention being where Break could keep track of him. The duke had been to visit Liam several times as well, which was almost more than Break had expected of him. He hadn't said much, though, beyond asking if Liam needed anything, which of course he didn't. Lady Sheryl had set him straight about that quickly enough.

Barma had said even less to Break when they happened to meet on his first couple of visits, and Break had hardly even responded when he did. Then, a day or two ago, Barma had been the only other person in the room when Break had snuck down from his own bedroom to visit. Liam had been soundly and peacefully asleep, which Break hoped meant his fever had broken.

The duke had turned toward Break, but he hadn't even bothered with a greeting at all, only studied him for a minute silently. The smile Break gave back to him was as brittle as ice, even before Barma finally spoke.

He had asked a question about the Baskervilles. Break was not the least inclined to share any information with him, and said so, and then - unwisely, but he couldn't seem to stop himself once he started - went on to let Duke Rufus Barma know just what he thought of him for making Liam keep March Hare's power a secret, when sharing that knowledge with him could have saved Liam a great deal of pain. Barma had snapped back that he was hardly one to talk about withholding information, and then reminded him haughtily that Liam was neither his servant nor his responsibility, and by that point Break was dearly wishing he'd hobbled in here with his cane in hand as he had on every other visit.

Then Liam had woken up. More or less.

"Stop that!" he'd snapped. They had stopped, immediately, both too startled to do anything more than stare at him. He'd scowled at the two of them, even though his eyes were only half open and his voice was still slurred with sleep.

"Both of you, just shut up. You're like a pair of ... squabbling... children..."

He drifted off vaguely, and a second later he was sound asleep again. Clearly, Break had thought, he still had a touch of that fever after all.

Barma had been silent for a moment, staring at his faithful servant in shock, Break supposed. Then his usual placid, cynical demeanor returned. He hadn't said another word, simply turned and swept out of the room without a glance in Break's direction. Just before he went, he had dipped his head toward Liam in what almost seemed to be a respectful little bow.

Break hadn't seen him again since then, and he was perfectly glad of it.

Now his rage returned at this new reminder of all that Barma's machinations had put Liam through. He ground his teeth, wishing he had something nice and sweet and hard to chomp on.

"Xerxes," Liam said, "That look on your face... I know what you're thinking. Don't blame Rufus for this."

He pushed Break's hand back up to his forehead, or tried to; Break felt him grimace and give up when this required a little too much movement of his injured shoulder. He left his hand resting on Liam's cheek, where he'd had it before, his fingertips barely touching the old scar just under his hair.

He would gladly have run Rufus Barma through with his sword that last time he'd been here, at least until Liam had scolded the fury out of him. He still might do it if he ever got the chance again, but the truth was, he could not possibly be any angrier at Barma for all these injuries Liam had suffered than he was at himself.

"And don't bother blaming yourself either," Liam growled.

Break didn't know why it should surprise him anymore that Liam was so perceptive; it was as if he could read Break's thoughts through touch, right through his skin.

Liam rubbed his cheek against Break's palm.

"Just don't," he whispered.

He shifted again, wincing almost audibly as he moved. Break tried to hold him still without hurting him even more, but Liam managed to sidle backward, putting a little more space between them. That was only so he had room to get his hands on Break again. He couldn't help but close his eye and breathe a little more sharply as Liam's fingers trailed familiar patterns over his skin, tracing the dark shape of the seal on his chest with his right hand, while he slowly moved his weaker left hand lower, fingertips gliding feather-light over his ribs and stomach, drifting lower still. If Break didn't know they were both too hurt and tired to do anything, it would have been instantly arousing.

There was not that kind of heat in his touch now, though. Not that it had gone missing between them; it was just that right now, warmth and contact was all that he craved, and all either them had strength for anyway. For the moment, he thought that was enough.

He jumped and sucked a sharp breath in between his teeth, not in arousal or pain but in surprise, when Liam slid his hand onto his hip and pressed it gently onto his own stitched wound. Another of those irritated little puffs of breath came from Liam as his fingers traced the jagged shape of it, and his other hand clenched in Break's hair at the back of his neck.

"And don't you _dare_ make me responsible for your death!" he whispered harshly into Break's ear.

Break winced; he had no idea when Gilbert could have had a chance to tell Liam exactly how he got that wound, but no one else would know - unless Liam was once again being far more perceptive than Break had given him credit for. He could not remember ever hearing him sound quite so angry before.

"I wasn't _planning_ to die, you know!" he said defensively. "At least," he added in a smaller voice, "not at first."

"You planned to use Hatter, didn't you?" Liam snapped. "It amounts to the same thing. I can't believe you would just give up like that!"

Break couldn't bring himself to say that, at that moment, he only thought he was following where Liam had already gone. That it wouldn't even have mattered, if he could only have taken at least one of the Baskervilles with him. That it only would have been hastening the end he already faced, anyway.

"Xerxes," Liam said, in a very familiar scolding tone. "I've never believed you're on the verge of dying, you know. Not from this," he added, touching the completed Seal again, "not from Hatter, not from Baskervilles or Chains or poisonous Nightrays, and not just because you have some great secret task to accomplish first. And no, it's not because I'm deluded! I have absolute confidence that you're going to go right on living. Because you're strong and stubborn and entirely willful, and you're not - usually - stupid."

He paused to nuzzle closer, close enough that Break felt warm breath on his cheek again and could almost make out his features.

"So please, Xerx," he went on, with an exasperated sigh, "try to have as much faith in me, would you?"

"Liam," Break started to protest, but Liam's fingertips were against his open lips and, anyway, he was absolutely right.

Held up against the looming shadow of Baskervilles, Headhunters, and Isla Yura's insane schemes, Liam had seemed awfully small and fragile just then. Now Break realized that, in a way, if he had let Liam down at all at that party, it was really in this, in forgetting what he knew better than anyone: Liam was stronger than he appeared, stronger and more resourceful than most people imagined he was. If Break hadn't forgotten that so quickly, maybe he would have stopped to question Fang's declaration, even without knowing the truth about March Hare.

He might not have done much differently by then. He still would happily have given up all thought of working with the Baskervilles and done his best to kill the two of them, but at least he would have made sure Liam had not nearly bled to death in agony while he was off somewhere else getting vengeance for him.

It was probably a little late to admit that he'd been terrified of losing him, though maybe not too late to acknowledge the irony in getting a taste of his own "I know I'm going to die but don't worry about me!" medicine.

_Even so_, he thought, _even if you say that_...

Liam's breath was still harsh in his ears; Break could too easily imagine the pain it must be causing him to simply lie next to him like this, curled up a little on his side, and now moving his left hand gently on Break's thigh. The doctor could not promise that he'd get the full use of that arm back, and Break couldn't quite promise that he not would forget again.

Before he said anything else, then, he leaned up on his elbow and gently but very insistently pushed Liam onto his back, coaxing him this time with kisses on his throat, and trailing his fingers lightly over those sensitive marks on his chest and shoulder - the old, small ones from Barma that he already knew so well. Liam still resisted, though, until Break finally touched lips and fingertips to the long ridge of stitched-together skin that began just above his heart. He followed the line of it with his tongue, like a trail that led from his heart up to the top of his shoulder.

Liam shuddered and fell back, finally. His left arm slipped away to rest at his side, where it should be, while he twisted his other hand in Break's hair. A little sob came out of his throat with Break's name mixed into it somewhere, vibrating next to his ear as he leaned over and followed Liam down onto the bed. He wasn't letting go, though, so Break guessed that it might not be a sound of pain at all. It sounded more like relief, or even desire. A lot like the sound he'd made back when Break had first, finally, kissed him.

_Ah_, he thought, almost but not quite smiling. _I should have realized_. He didn't say it, though, only kept his mouth busy laving the raised skin with his tongue, and listened to Liam breathe in tight little gasps.

Somehow, he managed not to wince noticeably, either at the painful pull in his own injury or from the horror and anger that Liam's wound inspired in him. His skin still tasted of bandages and strong soap; the line of the cut felt horribly tender under his tongue and the stiff threads of the stitches tickled his lip. He ignored all that; it still tasted of _Liam_, as warm as the rest of his skin, moving as he breathed. It was still part of him. It was still proof that he was alive.

When Liam's hand relaxed from its vice-grip in his hair and let him turn his head away, he propped himself more comfortably up on his elbow and kissed Liam lightly on the mouth, while he felt his way down his side, tracing the other new lines etched across his body more carefully now. Liam returned the kiss eagerly in between uneven puffs of breath, a little more ragged and loud when Break spread his fingers along the length of the gash across his hip.

"I have the utmost faith in you, Liam Lunettes," he whispered with his lips on Liam's.

Break very much wished he could see Liam's face more clearly; it felt like he must be smiling, even though the way he was panting was starting to sound a little too much like he had when he'd first turned up alive. He knew he should move away, but he didn't want to, not quite yet. He wasn't sure Liam would let him, anyway.

"That's better, then," Liam said. He sounded like he was smiling, too.

Break could hear the strain and weariness he was trying to keep out of his voice - trying not to worry _him_, for a change, though he could have pointed out that it was a little late for that - so he pretended not to notice. He settled back, carefully, on Liam's good side again, skin to skin under the sheet, and reached across with one hand to caress the new cuts across his chest. Liam raised his left hand again and tried to put it over his, but Break firmly placed it back down at his side.

"Be more careful of that arm, please, Liam; I'd like you to get it back in full working order again soon, you know," he scolded.

Liam _hrm_'d in that annoyed way he had, though he didn't move his arm again, nor much else. He turned his head, though, and nuzzled Break's shoulder.

"I'm right-handed, Xerxes," he muttered. "I can still do your reports for you just as well as ever, even with my left arm in a sling."

Break chuckled.

"Maybe that's not what I was thinking you'll need it for," Break hinted. "There are other things we can do on that desk of yours once they give you permission to get back to work, hm? It would hardly be the first time!"

"Xerxes Break!" Liam scolded, but he sounded far too weary, too relieved, for it to have its usual sharpness. "You are ...incorrigible."

Break nudged his head against Liam's on the pillow and let his hand rest lightly on his chest where he could feel the steady beat of his heart under his palm, fingertips just touching the lower end of the newly forming scar.

"I'm just saying," he said gently, "that I am most definitely not afraid to touch you, and that as soon as all these bothersome doctors and dukes and duchesses and everyone else leave us alone long enough, I will be happy to let you show me just how very un-fragile you are."

"Mmm," Liam made a pleased sound.

A moment later, Break was certain he was asleep.

Lying on his side like this was at least as bad as falling asleep in that chair had been, he supposed, but he couldn't bring himself to care much about how stiff he might be later. He did not plan to move any time soon, not even if the entire staff of Pandora suddenly burst into the room and found them this way.

He closed his eye and simply enjoyed the warmth of Liam's skin against his, felt the strong and steady beat of Liam's heart under his hand for as long as he could, until he finally let himself drift off to sleep as well.

~ end ~

* * *

(AN: so, yeah, that bit about "poisonous Nightrays" was already in there before Retrace 58 came out. As far as Break and Liam know in this story, it still _only_ refers to Vincent.)


End file.
